Half-work-minded cafe ramblings.

So this post will probably be super fragmented, considering I’m sitting at the cafe I work at and I’m currently about three minutes through my ten minute break. I’m going to finish this post up during my longer lunch period (I hope), so if it seems like I change topics suddenly halfway through, that’s why.

So, a bit about me that isn’t “I’m sad.” As I’ve mentioned previously, my name is Ryan. I’m 23 years old, currently working as a barista in Illinois. I’m not from IL originally; I was born and raised in little ol’ Rhode Island. I moved away when I was 14, and most of my family, including my dear mother, are still in the New England area (RI, MA, CT…) I know Rhode Island doesn’t seem like the most exciting of places, and honestly, it probably isn’t. But it’s home to me. It’s been almost a decade since I’ve lived there (I’m just now realizing that as I type it, wow), but I’ve considered it home even if I have lived in a handful of places since. The ocean, the woods, the way one of the trees on my home street hung slightly over another one so that it looked like they were wrestling…it’s the little things that make the big things special.

I’ll explain more about why I moved away in a future post most likely (hint hint, it has to do with….depression! :P) But it’s a different beast entirely to tackle, and I’ll need a hell of a lot more than one blog post to explain everything about it.

So I mentioned in my first (and thus far, only other) post that part of the reason I started this blog was to basically have a healthy writing outlet to spill any emotions or crap like that onto paper (digital….paper?). This is going to be one of those posts. I have about 37 different things rocketing around my mind that threaten to distract me at any point in my day. As a matter of fact, just right now I’m sitting next to someone who threatens to make my anxiety go off the charts. Nothing against her by any means – she’s super sweet, friendly, and social. But past events, without going into too much detail, have caused depressive and anxious thinking whenever she may be around my place of work.

If you just read that and said “what the hell?”, I don’t really blame you. I just read that back over and I barely understood it myself. The selfish part of me says that’s okay, though. I started a blog to get my own feelings into words, to spill my emotion in a healthy format. Right?

Considering the fact that I just joined this site yesterday, I’ve only read a handful of posts on a handful of blogger sites, honestly mostly about depression (I mean, a few about coffee too, but like my moving situation, my coffee fascination is another beast entirely to tackle. It’s an interest that, instead of fading away with the revival of my depression, has actually become stronger and more important to me since. It’s an entire culture, a language much of the world speaks, like music. But like I said – another can of worms for another time.). I’ve commented on a few posts about depression, even if it was just a little snippet of encouragement. But I hope it helped somebody. I feel like crap most days, and, well, it’s crap. But I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone people just like me struggling with real problems with a real mental illness affecting even the tiniest aspects of your life, permeating the most superficial and inane thoughts of your brain.

To echo every brochure packet for therapists literally everywhere: you aren’t alone. People right next to you are struggling, even if it isn’t immediately obvious. There are always different degrees; some people can hide it under a smile, a social group, makeup, but many, who society often sees as the angsty, broody, quiet loners who “have problems like everyone else but are too lazy to deal with them.”, have more trouble tucking those feelings away. The people who matter know the truth, and the truth is that struggling with depression does not count as lazy. Being so depressed you can barely pull yourself out of bed in the morning is not lazy.